


All of You

by Seven_tan



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Blowjobs, Filth, M/M, Male MC, Multiple Orgasms, No Spoilers, Overstimulation, PWP, Reader has a dick, Rimming, bottom!Zen, listen Zen has crazy recovery time in canon and i ruthlessly take advantage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8218411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seven_tan/pseuds/Seven_tan
Summary: It hasn't even been an hour, but you can't bring yourself to care. You down the rest of your wine quickly, and when he laughs at you, a puzzled look on his face, you feel a teasing smile grow on yours. You lean in, a bit closer than would be appropriate for even close friends, and whisper in his ear.“Come home with me.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> sorry this is really self indulgent lmfao

Tonight was supposed to be a quiet affair. Zen invited you out for drinks at a local cafe, and you were powerless to refuse and eager to please. It's close by, not terribly far from the apartment, so you walked there. Zen was a few minutes behind you, pulling off his bike helmet and laughing through his apology, and you couldn't have been more in love with him if you tried. The cafe is warm, and the wine you have in front of you is sweet, makes your head just dizzy enough.

As usual, you've dressed up for him, long hair in gentle curls down your back, a tasteful sweater and slacks combo that makes you looks classy and sophisticated. The two of you haven't been dating long, and the memory of the first RFA party you'd helped put together was still vivid and fresh. The shocked look on his face when he saw you for the first time had been funny, but you'd been nervous that he would back out when he realized who you were, so you're endlessly grateful that he was more open minded than he let on about who he was willing to date. You wanted to be good for him, for his image, but that was difficult to manage, sometimes. Dating in secret, only open about your relationship behind closed doors and in the RFA Messenger, is hard on both of you, but so far you’ve managed fine. The two of you could have been mistaken for colleagues talking over drinks, if not for the fact that his ankle rubs against yours under the table.

He looks gorgeous, as usual. The lights are low and sensual, his eyes dulled the same colour as his wine and a flirty tease to his voice as the two of you chat about this and that. You privately decide that he could make a paper bag look good, but the barest tease of collar bone underneath his partially unbuttoned shirt is enough to draw your eye down. Impeccable. You want to bite it.

It hasn't even been an hour, but you can't bring yourself to care. You down the rest of your wine quickly, and when he laughs at you, a puzzled look on his face, you feel a teasing smile grow on yours. You lean in, a bit closer than would be appropriate for even close friends, and whisper in his ear.

“Come home with me.”

The pink blush that rushes over his cheeks is as hilarious as it is endearing. He looks around nervously, rubs the back of his neck, but laughs, “Jeez, so forward. Alright, I'll give you a ride.”

Hmm. If you're lucky, maybe. You smile to yourself, and allow yourself to be lead out, following close behind.

The ride is short, given the distance between the cafe and Rika's apartment, but you warm your fingers on the strip of skin between his shirt and jeans, press yourself against his back. You'd never try anything while he was driving, of course, but he shivers anyway.

The memory of how you got into your apartment is a bit hazy, but you do know that the second you'd stepped inside, you started kissing and haven't stopped since. You've got him pinned with your hips against the fridge in Rika’s apartment, and he huffs breathlessly into your mouth as you bite and suck his lips. You fuck your tongue into his mouth, grab his wrists and get no complaints when you trap him more. It's the first time he's really letting you take control like this, tentative at the prospect of dating another man, maybe?

You grind your hips into his and smirk at his ragged moan. Not so unsure now.

“Ah, fuck,” he grits against your teeth, and he's hard in his jeans. Privately, you agree: he's the picture of debauched, bruised lips and rumpled dress shirt, hair fanning out behind him. You take your revenge by sucking a deep red mark just under his jaw, bright and clear as day, just above where his usual turtleneck would cover. He starts to complain, but you bite your way down and he cuts himself off with a groan, jerks against your hold. “Playing rough with me, babe?” He laughs, breathless, but he's not complaining.

You haven't even been making out that long and he already sounds fucked out. You have to do this more often. “Too much?” You tease, thumbing open the buttons on his shirt, making good on your thought from earlier and sinking your teeth gently into his skin. Though the two of you aren't especially kinky, you've got a safeword (Red Pepper) for a reason.

“You'll have to try harder than that,” he laughs, and arches into you with a ragged breath when you playfully tweak his newly revealed nipple. His blush extends down to his neck, over his ears, and you can't help but kiss him again, sloppily sucking his tongue. He seems to have widened his stance unintentionally, making you just barely taller than him, and his fingers tangle in your hair as you grind into him shamelessly. You can feel his dick press firmly into your thigh, and those jeans are not exactly loose, he must be uncomfortable. Not like you're doing any better, but dress pants are much less form fitting.

You press your leg just a bit higher, give him something to really get some friction from, and thumb both his nipples. He's sensitive here, which you're delighted by, since it's fun to pluck and pinch them and watch his reactions, even when he's the one on top of you. You duck down and lick a broad stripe over one of them, and he twists down almost feverishly into you, hissing shakily. “I'm gonna get some serious chafing here in a minute, babe,” he complains, but he's panting like he's just run 10 kilometres so there's no real force behind it. Instead of responding, you kiss his chest wetly, suck his nipple into your mouth. Zen pants raggedly and jerks like you've electrocuted him, accidentally cracks his head gently against the fridge when he arches into your touch.

He's the hottest thing you've ever seen. Seriously. You lick your lips greedily when you pull back. “Off, off,” you say, shoving at his shirt with only a hint of urgency. You want to take your time with him tonight, want to see him come undone, but you've no patience for clothes that are in the way. He shrugs out of it, but it drops from his hands and drops uselessly to the floor when you drop to your knees and suck a hot kiss into the skin just below his belly button.

“God, fuck. You-” he swipes a hand over his face, overwhelmed. His other hand finds its way back to your hair and he unsteadily runs his hand through the dark strands.

You hum at him nonchalantly, tug his zip down and busy yourself making another mark just above the waistband of his underwear where it's poking over the top of his jeans. Zen’s dick twitches under your chin, and when you look up at him, he's staring, pupils blown wide and hair mussed. You make eye contact with a grin, and you can see him bite his lip and swallow thickly from here.

As far as bedroom skills go, this is one of your best. Not to brag, or anything, but it's really just facts. Zen hasn't had a chance to experience it yet, since you're both still exploring each other, but you're eager to show him. He's always so focused on you. It's nice, to have a non selfish partner for once, but you really want to see him come apart, fucked out and come-drunk. You wonder if he’s the type to cry if he gets too overwhelmed. You kind of hope so, kinda want to take him there and fuck him so good he can't even remember his own name.

You press your painted thumb into his hip, pop the button on his jeans, and get to work.

It's barely takes him a second to awkwardly step out of his pants, but even that seems too long. He goes to shove his boxer briefs down too, but you're already there, licking the small damp spot that's already there and tonguing the head through the red fabric.

“Fuck,” he moans, almost disbelievingly, and the fabric is thin enough that you feel it when he spurts a little more pre into his shorts with your tongue. His hand tangles it's way through your hair and pulls, just enough to be perfect. “At least- at least let me get these off, too,” he huffs, but he doesn't push you away. If anything, he drags you closer, unconsciously pressing forward into the heat of your mouth.

You make another wet spot with your tongue and run your thumb over the slit. He makes a sound that's similar to a bitten off whine, and you finally have mercy, laughing at him when you yank them down and off.

He's a good size, well endowed but on the slender side, which is perfect for you. You wrap your hand around the base and jerk him gently, pausing to lap at the head. His dick is pretty, which is just stupid. Every part of him is so beautiful you're almost offended.

The look in his eyes is positively reverent, the hand that isn't in your hair is balled into a fist and pressed against the fridge door. You're reminded, oddly enough, that you're on your knees for your boyfriend in the kitchen of an apartment that doesn't technically belong to you and that Seven technically has security cameras in. Ah well, at least he'll get a good show, if he's watching. You lick up the side slowly, pause at the tip with the head on your tongue, and wink at the camera embedded in the ceiling to your left, just in case.

Time to really get to work, though. Don't want to get too distracted, especially not by another man.

The noise that Zen makes when you suck him down to the root in one go is one you want to hear on repeat forever. Maybe you can talk him into letting you make it your text tone. Every breath of his seems like a moan, audible pants and huffs, and his breath hitches on a sharp “Ah!” When you swallow around him. It's not effortless, and when his hips snap reflexively into your mouth, you have to back off, coughing, but you immediately dive back in, ignoring his stuttered apology. The noises you make are obscene, and excess saliva and pre drips down your chin.

You feel like maybe you should have taken off your glasses for this, Oh well.

You pull off for a second, long enough to catch your breath. Zen stares down at you, pupils completely blown and a bright flush down his naked chest, and you can't help yourself, you give a few kitten licks to the top, poke your tongue into his slit.

The grip in your hair gets tighter as he makes a strangled sound low in his throat. He rolls his hips again, fucks into your mouth, but this time you're better prepared, swallow him down so that the tip nudges the back of your throat in a slippery slide that has you moaning. Flicking your eyes up, you make eye contact with him as you pull back with hollow cheeks, and dive back down again slowly, press his cock into the back of your throat until you can't breathe. The sounds that he's making-shocked little vowel sounds that seem like they're being punched out of him with every suck-are like music to your ears. Your hand trails down to the front of your slacks and you palm yourself absentmindedly, moaning in answer.

You have other plans than just this though. If Zen’s in a submitting mood tonight, you're not about to waste it. You suck him off until he's shaking, can barely keep his himself upright and has no hope in the world of keeping quiet, before pulling off with an obscene pop. If he looks a mess, so do you, no doubt, and you can feel how puffy your lips are.

“Come on…!” He starts to complain, but you're already on your feet. “I was, about to,” You cut off any other protests with your lips, and he shudders and groans into your mouth at the taste of you, of him on your tongue.

“Mm.” You agree. You're feeling pretty wrecked yourself. “Let's go, if you're going to come tonight, I want it to be in my bed.”

“You're going to be the death of me, I swear,” he grumbles, and you grin wickedly at him.

It doesn't take long to get there, really, the whole apartment has a distinct studio look. Zen attacks you the second you step over the threshold, nibbling on your lips and yanking at your sweater. He's impatient now, how cute, so you oblige. He tugs it off of you, knocking your glasses askew, bites at your neck and sucks deep hickeys into your skin. “I know that my body is incredible, but I'm not going to be the only person naked,” he huffs against your skin, and you laugh in between gasps. He backs you up, tips you onto the bed, and immediately follows, tugging down your slacks and underwear. He bends and takes off your socks for you also, and you laugh breathlessly until he smiles and leaves a kiss on both of your knees.

He seems to hesitate a bit, here, but he slides up and starts kissing you again, lightly, playfully. You chastely peck his lips, scoot up so you're resting against the headboard at a less awkward angle and run your hand down his muscled back tenderly. The mood seems to have shifted a bit, going from rough and hot so smooth and honey-sweet, and you can't help but smile.

“What?” He asks, softly, presses his forehead against yours with an answering smile of his own.

“I love you,” you breathe against him with a tender kiss. You skim both your hands down his sides, pausing to rub circles into his hips, and he stutters forward slightly.

He makes an embarrassed noise, and you kiss him again, deeper, slower, until that point of contact is sending sparks right down your spine, until your lips are tingling and you're moaning into his mouth. You run your hands along his back, down, down, until you have a generous handful of ass and he squirms against you, huffing into the kiss.

This is great. He's basically climbed into your lap (like a cat, ironically), his hand pets down along your front, drawing hot lines along your stomach. You can still smell his cologne, sweet and spicy. If heaven exists, it's this. You grip his hips and grind your dick against his, and the friction is a perfect slow grind that has you sighing through gritted teeth.

“God,” he shakily sighs, and his voice is deep and rough, hot against your neck. He ruts into you, and your dick slides against the soft skin of his stomach, and fuck, fuck, you take it back, this is hell for sure, this kind of sweet torture.

You have no idea if you could come like this, but you're sorely tempted to try. Zen wraps his hand into your hair again, and when you wrap your hand around the both of you he yells and yanks, and you almost bite your tongue at the shock of need that shoots right to your core.

You must have just temporarily lost it, suddenly, because the next thing you know you're shoving him down and pinning him under you. The undignified squawk the lets out when his back his the bed is cut off when you grab one of his nipples between your teeth. “Ah, fffuck, yes, yes-” he still has his hands in your hair and pulls again, and a moan rumbles its way out of your throat. You feel like you're in a kind of frenzy, and you suck at least three more marks into his skin on your way down.

“You really like that, huh?” Zen is winded, but laughing and something about it makes you press your forehead against his ribs and laugh too. You're so gone on him, seriously, you'd probably like anything he wants to do to you.

“I guess I do.” You say instead, and you can't even bring yourself to be embarrassed about it. A wicked thought sparks in your mind, and you bite your lip,even just the thought brings a darker flush to your cheeks but, oh, you hope he'll be as into it as you. “Say, did you shower today?”

He looks almost comically offended, and scoffs. “What, do you think I'm some kind of animal? Of course I'd shower before going on a date, that's just courtesy.”

All sorts of filth automatically springs to your lips, but you bite back the words. Some people aren't into dirty talk, and you don't want to kill the mood. “Can I try something?”

“You can do anything you want at this point, babe. I'm all yours.”

Oh hello. That's. “Um,” that's the hottest and sweetest thing anyone has ever said, possibly ever. Instead of trying to form proper thoughts, you wrap your hand around his dick, smear the dribble of precome around the tip just to hear him moan for you. You reach behind you and grab one of the huge, fluffy pillows. “Hips up, please.”

“So polite,” you can tell it's supposed to be a tease, but his voice has gone low and husky and you have to swallow thickly to stop anything embarrassing coming out of your mouth. He settles with the pillow under his lower back, your hips bracketed by his calls. “What do you have planned for me, I wonder.”

It's not a question, so you don't bother answering. Instead, stretch your arm back and tug the drawer of the bedside table open, groping around for the half full bottle of lube you know you have in there. When you face him again, he looks...shy? Unsure, suddenly.

“I won't do anything you don't want.” You mean every word, “Just say so, and I'll stop.”

It's like you just told him that you'd hung the moon for him, the way he looks at you. “You're so good to me,” and that too, was probably meant to be a tease, but it came out so earnest and sweet that you can't help the dopey smile that blooms across your face. “Now, I really want to see what's in store for me. You look so beautiful when you've got a plan.”

“I hope I can convince you that it's worth it,” you tease back, but you're glowing at his praise anyway. “Comfy?”

“Very.”

“Good,” you drop the lube on the bed for later, and bend down to plant a wet kiss on the tendon of his inner thigh. You smooth your hand down his leg, soothing him and pushing his legs further apart gently. A shaky sigh, and the bed creaks quietly as he scoots back to give you more room.

You kiss a few red marks into his skin, leave a hot trail with your lips on the underside of his dick, but that's not your main goal, this time. Instead, you dip lower, gently cup him out of the way and press a wet kiss on his perineum, tease his rim gently with the tip of your tongue. “Oh, holy shit,” he wheezes. It sounds like all his breath was punched out of his lungs, and his hips cant up and back to give you more access. His thighs are shaking, cute.

You can't restrain the wicked grin that immediately leaps to your face.

“Can I-can I turn over?” His voice is so rough and cracked, like he'd been the one to get a good throat fucking earlier, and you're not sure if it's that or his suggestion that makes your dick jump where it's curled against your stomach. “I don't think...I can last if you're looking at me while you…”

He can't say it, oh man that's cute. “Eat you out?” You laugh, and his blush gets practically maroon, but you lean back to give him space. “Go ahead.”

It's absurdly graceful when he does, really, and the view is spectacular. He practically smothers himself in the pillow when you give one of his cheeks a good squeeze and laugh. “God,” he whines, “You're so...don't tease me like that. Jeez.”

“Why, will you cry if I do?” Zen sounds so embarrassed that you can't do anything but tease him. As if to prove a point, your other hand slides up the back of his leg and you push, spread him just enough that he can feel it. He's always in control of things when you're together like this, so to have him completely at your mercy, draped on your bed like a buffet is just a complete power trip. He smothers a series of embarrassed noises in the pillow, but you can see, even from here, that the back of his neck and the tips of his ears are bright red. “You look so good like this, just for me,” you sigh, and bend to kiss the dip of his back.

He starts to reply, but all that comes out is a long, choked groan when you bend further and lick a broad stripe over his hole. You're dating a maniac, clearly, because when you smirk against him, he actually shudders at the sharp press of teeth. As a reward, you swipe your tongue over him again, again, again, until he sounds like he's dying, until he twists your sheets so hard you think he'll tear them.

It takes a few tries, but eventually Zen relaxes enough that you can slip the tip of your tongue inside, and fuck, he's so hot you feel like you're being burned. You drag the points of your teeth over his skin, catching a bit on the rim, and the way his thighs are shaking and he cries your name is so perfect you just have to give him what he wants. It's almost easy to slide your tongue the rest of the way inside, and you start to fuck him with it sloppily.

“Holy fuck. Oh- oh-ffff…” his breath hiccups in his throat, stutters out of him in a long whine. You suck a wet kiss onto his flesh, and he arches back into you with a strangled shout.

Ahh, if only you could praise him right now, tell him how good he sounds, how good he feels. Your head feels fuzzy and warm, and you moan softly in answer. It drives him wild, he arches, trembles like his very bones are about to collapse. Drool drips down your chin and down his thigh to match with the steady drip of precome from Zen. You're hard beyond imagining, the soft slide of the sheets isn't nearly enough and too much at the same time.

Zen babbles and sobs helplessly. “Good, so good. Fucking, G-God, babe I…” he trails off with a steady stream of vowel sounds. You can feel the throb of him around your tongue and lip at his rim while you grope around for the discarded bottle of lube. The disappointed noise he makes when you back off just a little bit to leave yourself some room is one that you're going to tease him about for a while, if you can get your lust addled mind to remember it. You don't like to leave him hanging, so you take your hand off of one of his cheeks and press your thumb into him dry alongside your tongue just to tease. It works: he chokes on the steady stream of noise and you can feel his hips stutter, fucking back into that feeling, and well. Clearly you're doing something right.

You pull back entirely, drizzle the lube generously over your right hand. “Which do you want more, my mouth or my fingers?”

“Anything,” he gasps, “Anything. Just-!” He reaches back, goes to jerk himself off, and you grab his hand with your left one, laugh at his whine. You pull it back, just enough that he has to twist, brace himself precariously on one elbow. “Fuck-” it's not pain that has him shivering, you know.

“Greedy.” Your tone belies your smile, but you can't help but tease him.

He gives you a look over his shoulder that's half shell-shocked and half fucked out, and just the look of him with his hair splayed out on his back and the crimson flush that covers his face has you biting your bottom lip. To get back at him, you drizzle more lube directly onto his hole, making him yelp in surprise at the cold and bury his face into his arm. The pillow from earlier is long abandoned to the side, almost falling off the bed.

The excess slick makes sliding your first finger all the way to the last knuckle almost nothing, but you take your time anyway, sliding slowly in and out of him. He's tight, but relaxed from earlier, so you soon find yourself slipping in another. It's a much tighter squeeze, so you pause at the second knuckle and slide out again, bring your face down to his hand you've still got clasped in yours and kiss the palm of it, suck the tip of his index in your mouth and nibble on it delicately. You are content to just innocently (?) finger him for a while, a gentle push and pull, stretching him around you in a slow, devastating burn that has him shaking and tentatively rocking back against you.

Zen finally starts getting into it when you scissor your fingers gently, spreading him, and you reward the shaky moan he gives you by dipping your tongue back in between for fingers, just enough to send a jolt down his spine and make him cry out into the mattress. Even though you've been ignoring it a bit, his erection hasn't withered at all, and you let go of his hand to grab his ass again, press three fingers all the way inside of him and curl down towards his belly.

“Fuck!” He shouts when you finally nudge against his prostate, and now that you've got him into it again, you start to fuck him on your fingers, rubbing over that spot again and again with unerring precision. He sobs and trembles in pleasure, scrabbles for purchase in the sheets with both hands as he unashamedly rides your hand. “Please, please, please--!”

You go as deep as you can and rub your fingers into his prostate in a ruthless, unending grind that makes him writhe and clench around you. You lick your lips, “Please what?”

“More, damn you! I can't-I can't fucking--! God just--” his breath heaves out of his chest and you nudge just a bit further into him, reach under him and tweak one of his nipples roughly and he's gone. He's done. He practically screams when he finally comes, grinds back into your fingers until he's shaking so hard he can barely keep upright. By the end of it, he’s collapsed onto his arms, chest heaving, and when he twists around onto his back and drapes himself over your lap you can see the telltale shine of drool on his chin. Your gaze drifts down leisurely.

Zen looks wrecked, like he can’t focus at all on your face, and you pet his stomach gently. He’s got drops of cum painted almost all the way up to his collarbone, but, oh hello. He's already coming back to life, halfway hard and poking up towards his belly. You look at his dazed but wicked expression and lick your lips. Thank god for monster stamina. Zen's got his hands twisted in the sheets above his head and he uses them for leverage to grind his ass into your very hard and very lonely cock and you-- you--

The head of your dick catches on his rim and he whines, over sensitive, pushes back against you again and slides your dick in between his cheeks. Zen’s embarrassed, you can tell by the way he's gritting his teeth and avoiding eye contact with you, but you're making completely undignified noises so you're in no place to judge. Liquid heat runs down your spine, makes you shake and press harder against him, craving more skin to skin contact. You're helpless, helpless, grab his hips so hard you're positive he's going to have hand shaped bruises and rock into him with a whine of your own. It takes you a minute to reign yourself in, to get the fever pitch and the ringing out of your head, but his dick is sandwiched between your stomachs so he's definitely not complaining. Actually, when you lean back to get a better angle, a thread of precome sticks the two of you together and you feel your cheeks heat.

“God,” he huffs, runs a hand through his thoroughly messed up hair, and his hips twitch against you like he can't help it anymore. “Just fuck me already.”

Your breath stutters out of you in an unsteady moan before you can think to stop it. “Really? You sure?”

“I've been dying for it for the last half hour. If you don't hurry up and do something about it soon, babe, I'm just gonna take care of myself.”

“I wouldn't mind watching that,” you tease, and you can feel his dick twitch against your stomach. A laugh escapes you before you can help it, “Narcissist. Maybe next time. This time, I wanna fuck you till you cry.” He shivers, moans, and laughs a little, like he can't decide if that's hot or ridiculous, but you grind into him again before he can reply. “Condom?”

Zen blushes further and stutters out a quick “it's fine,” so you shrug and decide, hey, fuck it. You're gonna come all up in your boyfriend. Good times. Maybe if you're lucky, he'll let you help clean up the mess in the shower. Mm.

Thoughts best reserved for later. You refocus on the now.

You snatch up the lube from the bed again, and smear a good palmful on your dick, shuddering at the heat of your own hand. The abandoned pillow is retrieved, and you squish it under him again, hike one of his long, muscled legs up around your waist properly. Your thighs shake with combined effort and arousal as you lift yourself and Zen up into a better position. His hair is a mess, splayed over the sheets in a tangled silver web, and he's just an absolute picture. He looks wrecked, debauched, flushed delicate pink and covered in your marks. Zen's face is the most perfect mixture of adoration and hunger, any uncertainty leftover from earlier completely wiped away.

It's nothing to line yourself up and nudge gently into him, a slow unbearably tight slide that leaves you gutted. You make a strangled noise, deep in your throat, and Zen echoes you breathlessly. You leave one hand on his hip to steady yourself, but tangle your fingers desperately with his on the sheets. The way you curl over him creates a messy curtain around the two of you with your hair, and when you're as deep as you can go you press a shaky kiss against his bitten lips.

“So full,” he gasps when you part, barely forming the words, and presses back against you as much as he can. You both moan gently, and you can help but pull back, slowly, not even an inch, and press back into that heat. You're not small by any stretch of the imagination, but he has always surprised you with his remarkable recovery time. No sense in him stopping now, you suppose. “So full, God I want you.”

And who are you to say no to that? You pull out enough that the ridge of your head presses against his rim, tight and hot around your cock, and fuck back into him in a smooth, devastating glide. His breath leaves him in a punched out cry when you bottom out again and it takes you a second to register that must have just found the perfect angle. Your luck is your best trait, it's true, and just to be smug you fuck into him again a little faster, a little harder. “Fuck you're hot. So good, so tight,” you gasp. He clenches around you and you descend into incoherence with a throaty groan. You try and keep your rhythm tight and controlled, long, deep thrusts that leave you both shaking. He’s so hot, so wet. When you feel like you’ve got a steady back and forth, you untangle your hand from his and slide it down his front again, rubbing along his sweat slick skin all the way to the jut of his dick against his stomach. He nearly sobs when you get a hold of him, his hips buck up into the tight circle of your fingers but the hand on his hip pins him in place. “Hyun-”

It’s a steady burn that’s slowly liquefying your insides. Heat pools low in your belly like lava, coils around your spine and makes you breathless. It’s almost reflexive to bite at Zen’s neck, suck another deep bruise just under his adam’s apple when he tips his head back with a moan, close your teeth around his pulse point and sink into him .  
You switch up the angle a bit, slam his hips back against you when you ruthlessly fuck into him and he howls. You can feel his dick throb in your palm and he throws his arms around your shoulders and claws at you like a lifeline. Immediately, you can feel a hot pulse of come dribble over your fingers, but you’re well beyond stopping now. You drive in deeper, harder, faster, fucking him with all you have, and he yanks at your hair with a tortured whine of your name. “Oh, God, oh fuck, hhh-- I can’t, I can’t! Please!”

“What?” you rasp. “What is it, Hyun?” He hasn’t gone soft at all, even though he just came again, so you tease the slit with your thumb, smear his come around just to listen to him wail. Zen must be over sensitive at this point, so you tease him, slip your fingers up and down from root to tip gently.

He spasms around you like you’ve electrocuted him, jerks back and forth like he’s not sure if he wants more or wants to get away from your touch. “I can't, aaah, it’s-” you thrust up into him as deep as you'll go, hips pressed tight against his, and grind into him in tight little circles, “-too much, too much, please!!” That voice, that beautiful voice sounds fucking ruined. He sounds like he's breaking apart, coming undone at his most base level and loving it. You almost think he’s going to safeword out, judging by the look of tortured ecstasy he has on his face, but you trust him. God, you'd trust him with anything. You'd serve him your heart on a plate if you could. So instead of stopping, you dig in deeper, bruise his hips with your grip and bite and lick at his skin.

Your orgasm hits you like a bus, and you shake and grit your teeth against the force of it. Every gasp of breath is a fight, every exhale his name as you feel his whole body clench around you. Your back is probably a mess, the sharp sting of pain from his scratches only heightening your pleasure. You keep fucking him, rhythm shot all to hell, but God you think he’ll probably kill you if you stop. Come dribbles out around you with every thrust, but you grip his leaking cock and stroke him once, twice and he's sobbing, coming a third time with a silent scream.

It's definitely not your finest moment, and you almost face plant into his chest when you collapse against him, but he is definitely unconscious so you're gonna count it as a win. You wiggle a bit and sigh, pulling out of him slowly. Zen’s face is damp with sweat and tears, and you kiss his cheek before sliding out of bed to retrieve a washcloth. Your legs quiver under you when you stand, and you feel like some kind of baby deer, but it takes you less than a minute to get there and back. When you return, his eyes open blearily at the first brush of the rough washcloth against his skin and he shivers and moans tiredly.

“Shh,” you whisper and pat his cheek, “No more, babe, just gonna clean you up.”

You run the cloth down his stomach, rub his hips and thighs. A shudder so strong you can see it runs through him when you pass lower, clean up the come that’s leaked out of his hole and another moan croaks out of him. Honestly, you're almost interested again, seeing how he leans into your touch, completely pliant, but he's clearly exhausted so instead you set the cloth aside, quietly move the bottle of lube to the nightstand. You press another kiss against his lips, and he responds softly, chastely, strokes your neck with trembling hands.

Eventually he sits up with a wince and slowly turns around so that his head is by the headboard instead of the other way around. You smile and collapse beside him, slip the bedcovers over you both and drape yourself over his chest.

“You've killed me,” he sighs eventually into your hair, wraps his arm around your shoulders with a tired smile. “Seriously, what the hell. Which one of us was supposed to be the beast in this scenario?”

“Mmm,” you agree. You maybe also nuzzle into his shoulder a little.

A long suffering sigh escapes him, “You made me come three times, I feel like a limp noodle,” he accuses and tugs at your hair gently, “I'm gonna be wearing concealer for the next week because of you.”

You huff a laugh into his skin before kissing it, and run a hand along the just of his hip. You can't help but want to tease him a bit more. “You're also probably gonna have some trouble walking tomorrow.”

“I swear to God,” he groans.

He doesn't expand on that, so you still have hope for getting to shower with him tomorrow morning.

Everything feels warm, soft. “I love you,” you breathe against him, and he mumbles something that sounds a lot like I love you too before he trails off into a sigh. His breathing slows, you can feel his heart beat steady against your palm.

Your eyes slip closed, content.

 

 

 


End file.
